


A Hope of Steel

by Morninglight (orphan_account)



Series: A Sparrow in the Wasteland [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Morninglight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparrow Finlay has done the best she can for the Brotherhood recon team until their promised relief force arrives. Chasing answers to the fate of her son, she comes to the conclusion that the battle with the Institute isn't one she can win alone. Thankfully, she has Danse at her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hope of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Trigger warnings for PTSD, death, violence, defilement of a corpse, mentions of drug addiction and fantastic racism. Some canon divergence involved in the Brotherhood of Steel storyline that revolves some cut dialogue I come across, but that will be explored later. Throwing in some head-canon to explain Cait’s accent.

 

Paladin Brandis was shell-shocked from the loss of his team and the long silence of the Brotherhood but, as he limped into the Cambridge Police Station leaning on the smaller Sparrow’s shoulder, the light in his eyes gave Danse hope for their future in the Commonwealth. Rhys had recovered from his injuries and Haylen was almost finished with jury-rigging the long range transmitter to the Capital Wasteland and the Elders. After the events at Arcjet Systems, it was clear the Institute were working to some sinister agenda, which meant that intervention was necessary. The only ones capable of matching the rogue scientists were the Brotherhood of Steel, which meant that Danse and his team would have their hands full until a strike force was assembled.

            That team included Sparrow and even Rhys was reluctantly respecting her contributions to Gladius. The Initiate obeyed orders without complaint and reported in every two days, bringing food and supplies for Haylen and Danse to scavenge. Rhys, born to the Brotherhood and the son of Paladins, had few survival skills outside the Brotherhood – though he was an exemplary soldier nevertheless. Now that Brandis, despite his shellshock, had joined them – they were almost up to full complement again.

            Danse noted approvingly that Sparrow wore the orange and beige uniform of a Brotherhood Initiate with combat armour on her torso – scavenged from one of the dead recon teams, no doubt, but it showed her dedication to the order. She used a Institute pistol picked up from one of the synths at Arcjet Systems as her primary weapon, Righteous Authority having too much of a kick for the thin Vault Dweller until she learned to brace herself properly. It was frustrating that with the chaos in the Commonwealth, Danse didn’t have the time to teach her properly, fitting in her combat lessons between the peregrinations Haylen and Rhys sent the most mobile member of Gladius on. Every time she was sent out to clear out a nearby location of ghouls and super mutants or scavenge some pre-War tech for Haylen, the Paladin feared that she wouldn’t return – or would try to find her son on her own and fall into an Institute trap.

            Once Brandis was sitting on a sleeping bag and Haylen checking him over, Sparrow upended the satchel she carried to reveal her scavenged treasures – food, purified water, ammo and the other necessities of life in the Wasteland. No chems beyond some Rad-X, Danse noted with a raised eyebrow.

            “I met a trader on the road between Malden and Paladin Brandis’ post,” the Initiate explained, hooking her hands into her belt to conceal the trembling. “Traded the chems I found for ammunition and some food.”

            “Removing temptation, Initiate?” Danse asked softly. In between leaving the Vault and coming upon the Brotherhood, Sparrow had been using Jet to avoid sleeping because she’d developed a genuine phobia of unconsciousness. He suspected that while she was trying to avoid the chems now – as per the Litany – she also only slept in the Cambridge Police Station when she was around other people. The Vault Dweller would burn herself out with such behaviour and Danse was helpless to stop it.

            “Yes,” she admitted starkly. Haylen, as the medic, knew that Sparrow was still purging the poisons of her chem binge from her body – without the use of Addictol or the services of a proper doctor, the process would take a month or more, and be set back if more chems were used. The Brotherhood saved Addictol for the direst cases of addiction, those that came around from genuine short-term necessity like surviving a firefight, and if Danse had some to hand, he would certainly use it on Sparrow. Unfortunately, there was none to be had and the caps stash they’d managed to build up had to be saved for more urgent necessities.

            Rhys had been contemptuous of Sparrow’s binge but only voiced his concerns to Danse when the Initiate was gone. He bled the Brotherhood and believed in purging all weaknesses, even his own.

            Brandis was now asleep, Haylen putting the old Paladin under a light sedative and joining Sparrow in going through the scavenged items. When she saw a big, leather-shelled egg in the ‘I think it’s edible’ pile (as opposed to the ‘definitely edible’ pile), the Scribe grinned.

            “Radscorpion omelette, anyone?” she asked of the recon team.

            Sparrow, who ate food mechanically, shrugged while Rhys and Danse nodded. It would take a full omelette to purge the chem poisons from the Initiate’s body or help heal Brandis, but splitting it between the four of them would grant Gladius a much-needed boost to their energy. The pre-War supplies that were still edible two hundred or so years later were filling, but they had to be paired with rad-resistant foods or else everyone would sicken. The Initiate, as a Vault Dweller, was the most vulnerable to rads and so before she went out, Haylen supplied her with some RadAway that was brewed from the plants and other supplies brought in.

            As the leader of a recon team, Danse had to balance the input and output of the individual team members. It would take at least a week for Brandis to recover physically and no doubt months for him to be fit for full duties – but he could handle a pistol and help Rhys defend the compound, freeing Danse up to leave if necessary.

            Haylen was a competent cook and the fresh omelette made a pleasant change from mac and cheese, Instamash and baked tatos. The lines of pain around Sparrow and Brandis’ eyes eased a bit and the Paladin was soon sleeping again, curled up in his sleeping bag like a baby.

            Danse sat by Sparrow as Rhys took the bowls to be cleaned. The Initiate was already dismantling a typewriter into scrap for supplies – when the Brotherhood arrived, they would be impressed at the amount of tech and scrap scavenged by his team.

            “Once Haylen fires off the message to the Elders, Gladius will dig in and fortify this compound to use as a ground base,” he told her, sorting the typewriter parts into useful and non-useful piles.

            “What does that mean for me?” Sparrow asked as she unscrewed something.

            “It means that all scavenging and cleansing missions will cease. We’ve cleaned out Cambridge in more ways than one but for the area near the C.I.T. Ruins,” he explained. “It means that you should be able to spare a day or two to cross over the bridge and chase leads on your son and the Institute. I’ve heard over the radio that there’s a reporter there – Piper – who’s looking into the bastards herself.”

            “What can I expect in Diamond City?” she asked.

            “Corruption, ingenuity and all the virtues of the Wasteland in between,” Danse observed wryly. “I hear Mayor McDonough denies the existence of the Institute while Piper outright called him a synth.”

            Sparrow’s mouth pursed. Her lips were neither full nor thin, chapped and reddish-pink against her tanned skin, but her teeth were the whitest Danse had ever seen. The burnt orange of her uniform lent warmth to her skin and a hint of copper to the chestnut hair she kept coiled at the nape of her neck.

            “I found this,” Danse suddenly said, reaching for the box where items too useful to scrap but not immediately use were kept. Inside was a silver-backed hairbrush, found in some pre-War woman’s dressing table, and he offered it to Sparrow.

            Given that until the last scavenging run she’d shared a near-toothless plastic comb with Haylen when she didn’t just settle for finger-combing her hair, he thought that she’d be glad of it. Haylen had chosen a bright pink hairbrush with black bristles that made short work of her tangled ginger ponytail, though Rhys gagged at the colour combination.

            “Thank you,” Sparrow said with such gratitude in her voice that it made Danse flush. Was the world so desolate for the Vault Dweller that every bit of kindness – even when it was between two Brotherhood members who owed each other their lives – was significant?

            The Initiate rose to her feet and entered the bathroom to clean herself with the boiled water that Gladius kept to hand. Danse watched her leave, eyes following the swing of her hips before he reminded himself that she was newly widowed _and_ under his command, a double betrayal of trust.

            But she would look lovely, even under the Wasteland grime, with her hair properly brushed and clean.

…

When Sparrow headed out the next morning, she wore road leathers that had been brushed free of dirt the night before and the leather armour that was becoming far too comfortable. Violence was the way of the Wasteland, it seemed, and the Institute pistol in her hand the only thing that kept her alive.

            She wished Danse could have come with her. The Paladin’s gruff solid presence was a reassurance that she wasn’t alone, that there was someone at her back, but it would be a week before Brandis could even face light duties and be trusted to help Rhys guard the compound. Sparrow resigned herself to another sleepless couple days and hefted her pack – full of pipe pistols, some spare armour that was worth more selling than scrapping and a few scavenged dresses and suits which survived the Great War – before striding for the bridge that would lead her to Diamond City.

            Turned out that Diamond City was the old baseball stadium and Boston proper riddled with super mutants, ghouls and raiders. The city guards, decked out in old baseball uniforms with padding and helmets, were holding off an attack by super mutants laired up in an abandoned building. It had become second nature for Sparrow to charge in firing, though she showed some more tactics thanks to Danse’s endless patience with her lack of combat experience.

            “Not afraid of super mutants? You’re our kinda gal,” noted the chief of the guards approvingly once the super mutants were dead, two of his number joining Sparrow in the looting that was now instinctive.

            “Damn things are a blight on humanity,” Sparrow said tightly, remembering Danse’s stories of the Capital Wasteland and the fate of his friend Knight Cutler.

            “That they are, that they are,” the guard agreed. “Headin’ to Diamond City?”

            “Yes,” she confirmed. “Got weapons, armour, dresses and suits to trade.”

            “The folk in the upper stands will welcome the clothing,” the guard said dryly. “Sell them to Fallon’s Basement. Old Becky will pay you a fair price and if you become her exclusive supplier, there’ll be more caps in it for you.”

            “Thanks for the tip,” Sparrow told him. Danse, who’d once run a junking business in somewhere called Rivet City, told her that the key to successful trading in the Wasteland was a willingness to compromise paired with a refusal to take any bullshit.

            “Arturo is the best place to sell raw steel, weapons, armour and ammo, while Myrna will take just about everything else,” the guard continued. “The Dugout Inn is a good place to stay – decent food, booze and the Bobrov Brothers don’t take shit from anyone.”

            Sparrow found herself smiling at the man. “Thank _you_ ,” she said. “I’m from up north and… well… came south after a… family tragedy.”

            The guard nodded. “Good luck. Most traders would have run past and left us to the super mutants, ungrateful sods they are. Tell Sullivan at the gate that Banyon sent you and he’ll let you in.”

            Sparrow nodded at the guard and followed the signs to Diamond City. It was good to know that humanity was rebuilding after the Great War; once she found Shaun and the Institute dealt with, maybe they could make a good life here.

            At the gate, a dark-haired woman in a red leather coat was arguing with Sullivan over the intercom. “Let me in, dammit!” she ordered. “I live here!”

            “Mayor’s orders, Piper, I’m sorry,” the hapless Sullivan replied. “He’s really steamed about that article you wrote.”

            “Oooh, here comes the big scary reporter!” Piper said mockingly. “I’m standing out in the open!”

            “I’m sorry, Piper.” The intercom shut down and Piper muttered something uncomplimentary involving Mayor McDonough’s likely ancestry, which was apparently rich in synth and ghoul diversity.

            Sparrow grinned at the reporter. “I thought you knew all politicians were synths,” she told her.

            “Hah.” Piper shook her head in disgust. “He’s up to something. First he throws all the ghouls out of Diamond City and now he’s trying to shut down the press.”

            She turned around and looked at Sparrow penetratingly. “Pipboy, fish outta water look… What brings a Vault Dweller to the ‘great, green jewel of the Commonwealth’?”

            “I’m looking for my son Shaun,” Sparrow said, throat closing up at the thought of her son dead or gone. “He’s a baby.”

            “And you’re hoping that you can find answers in Diamond City?” Piper sounded sympathetic.

            “I hope so.” Sparrow folded her arms and studied the reporter. “How do we get in?”

            “Leave that to me.” Piper leaned over and pressed the intercom. “What was that? Banyon sent you and you have goods to trade?”

            “I’m from Sanctuary Hills in the north and I have some luxury garments,” Sparrow confirmed, playing along with the reporter.

            “So, Danny, you gonna let her in or explain to Becky Fallon why there’s a pile of suits and dresses left out on the ground when they could be making caps for her?” Piper asked into the intercom.

            “Sheesh, fine, I’ll open up.” The great door of the stadium lifted to reveal an irate man in a dusty grey suit, complete with yellow silk flower tucked into the pocket.

            “You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer!” spat the older man, who had to be Mayor McDonough. “Who let you in-?”

            “Mayor McDonough?” Sparrow asked, interrupting the man’s tirade and palming the bottle of wine she’d found on the way here.

            “Yes,” the man said, turning to her. “Who-?”

            “My name is Sparrow and I’m a trader from up north,” she said. “My son was kidnapped and I’m hoping that the mayor of a great city could give me some ideas on where to start.”

            McDonough reminded her of every petty politician and Army bureaucrat her family had dealt with before the bombs fell, and the tricks which worked on them made the Mayor’s chest puff up in a vain show of masculine pride. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I didn’t see you there. You look like Diamond City material.”

            “Thanks,” Sparrow said.

            “As for your son, Nick Valentine’s the man – or synth, I should say – to see,” McDonough continued. “If he can’t find him, then no one can.”

            “Thank you, Mayor McDonough,” Sparrow said softly as he turned away to berate Piper once more.

            “You and your little sister are on notice!” he spat before heading upstairs into the stadium proper.

            “Keep talking, that’s all you’re good for!” Piper hurled at his back before turning to face Sparrow.

            “I’m impressed. Not everyone can pry information out of McDonough’s tight grip.” The reporter grinned. “Think I found my next story. Come by my office once you’ve seen Nick.”

            Sparrow looked up and saw that night was coming. She didn’t want to be out in the darkness, not without one of the Brotherhood – even Rhys – by her side. “I can give you the story now,” she told the reporter. “Careful, it will take all night.”

            “Sleep is for the weak,” Piper laughed as they entered Diamond City.

…

The Initiate didn’t return for nearly a week and Danse was quietly starting to panic. Sparrow was under his command and he knew the woman wouldn’t disobey orders without a damn good reason – had she been killed by raiders or captured by the Institute for asking questions? He should have gone with her-

            “Sparrow’s back,” Haylen announced as she peered through the window. “And looks like she brought someone with her.”

            The Paladin scowled. He hoped that Sparrow understood the Brotherhood’s need for discretion until the force that the Elders promised arrived.

            He strode into the courtyard where Brandis had stopped the Initiate and her companion, a freckled redhead with the lilting accent of the insular Erin community from the Capital Wasteland and the scarred hands of a brawler. “Well, well, well,” the woman drawled, looking Danse up and down blatantly.

            “Focus, Cait,” Sparrow said with a sigh.

            “Can’t, out of Jet,” the brawler replied cheerfully.

            “Haylen, give the Initiate’s… friend… something to eat,” he told the Scribe who’d followed him outside. “Initiate, I want your report now.”

            “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Cait asked as he led Sparrow down to the cellar.

            “I’m sorry I’m late,” the Vault Dweller told him once the door was shut.

            “Who the hell is that?” he demanded. If Sparrow had hit the chems again-

            “Cait, a cage fighter I wound up stuck with after I killed the raiders who were betting on her,” the Initiate answered flatly. “Her ‘manager’ Tommy cut her loose because there was no need of her and he couldn’t be arsed to take the time to get the help she needed.”

            “Have you touched any chems?” Danse asked bluntly.

            “No, and I used the caps I earned from rescuing Nick Valentine, a synth detective with the personality of someone I actually knew back in the 2070s, to get a doctor to cure me of the poisons,” she shot back, tone sounding hurt. “You can get Haylen to check me out.”

            “I will,” he confirmed. “You were meant to be gone for two days, three at most, Initiate. What happened?”

            Sparrow raised her scarred chin, brown eyes flashing. “I tracked the bastard who took my baby to Fort Hagen,” she announced. “Unfortunately, it’s heavily fortified and likely crawling with synths.”

            When he went to point out she should have come to him first, the Initiate held up her hand. “I had to follow a mutt named Dogmeat,” she explained. “Nick, Cait and I walked halfway across the Commonwealth to find this ‘Kellogg’ and then back because I knew that even with three of us, there wasn’t enough firepower to take the fortress on.”

            Danse sighed. “I’m not happy, Initiate. Working with a synth who might be an Institute plant-?”

            “Nick had his memories of the place scrubbed, but he confirmed that the Institute likely took my son,” Sparrow answered softly. “And the Nick Valentine I recall was one of the finest men I ever knew – and despite looking like something from a bad sci-fi movie, the one who offered to help find my baby is the same man, just with circuits.”

            “I’m still not happy,” Danse observed, “But I’ll reserve judgment until I meet this synth for myself.”

            “Understood,” Sparrow agreed. “What about Cait?”

            “She’s too chem-riddled to be trusted,” Danse told Sparrow bluntly. “If you were looking to help her by having her join the Brotherhood, it won’t happen. She’s too random and dangerous.”

            The Vault Dweller’s jaw set stubbornly but she nodded. “I’ll send her to Hangman’s Alley,” she told the Paladin. “Wound up clearing out some raiders there with Cait and found a couple folk willing to settle down there with its proximity to Diamond City.”

            “Repopulating the Wasteland?” Danse asked with a raised eyebrow.

            “Making friends and allies for the Brotherhood,” Sparrow countered. “With the death of the Minutemen at Quincy, there’s no one protecting the settlements. I highly doubt that the Elders will come along, destroy the Institute and return to the Capital Wasteland to leave the Commonwealth in a state of anarchy.”

            Danse stared at her. Even the Paladins left such long-term thinking to the Elders, who were chosen from the best and brightest of their order, a mixture of the traditional families – like Arthur Maxson and the late Lyons – and those who’d risen through the ranks.

            “We tend to keep to ourselves unless dangerous technology is involved,” he finally said.

            “Maybe so, but even if you just come to destroy the Institute, the support of the Commonwealth will be needed,” Sparrow pointed out. “Food, medicine, supplies…”

            “I _get_ it, soldier,” Danse informed her testily. “So what are you going to do now?”

            Sparrow smiled grimly at him. “I was hoping you could come with me to Fort Hagen. I need someone who can handle heavy weapons as Cait and Nick, who’s watching the place, can’t.”

            Danse looked at her steadily. “You’re certain that Kellogg is working for the Institute?”

            “In the old days, the circumstantial evidence I have would be enough to send that bastard to the chair,” Sparrow answered flatly.

            “The chair?”

            “The electric chair,” she clarified. “We electrocuted criminals to death.”

            “Bullet to the head is cleaner,” he observed.

            “When we began to run out of resources, we turned to bullets,” the Initiate agreed. “It was… not a good time to live in.”

            Danse recalled her tales of soldiers in power armour gunning down protestors as two world powers squabbled over the last few oilfields on earth, the stunning victory in Anchorage that led to China unleashing their nuclear arsenal and the United States following suit, and the wind from the mushroom cloud as she and a select few were lowered into a Vault to be secretly frozen.

            “I don’t know all of the Brotherhood’s history, but I do know that our order was born from the military of that time,” he finally said. “Humanity’s arrogance and technological grasp exceeded their wisdom and morality.”

            “I noticed,” Sparrow said with an ironic twist of her lips.

            “I guess you did,” Danse conceded sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “As to your request, let me check with Haylen and Rhys. Brandis is up and about, but he’s still fragile.”

            “Understood,” Sparrow said as she turned for the door upstairs. “If you can’t leave the compound, I’ll head back to Diamond City and grab Piper to join me, Cait and Nick.”

            When Danse entered the main police station, he saw Cait flirting outrageously with a scowling Rhys while Haylen chivvied Sparrow over for a quick check up. When the Scribe nodded at him, the Paladin knew she’d been telling the truth about the chems.

            “Brandis!” he called out to his fellow Paladin. The older man, hair now neatly cut and beard trimmed, looked up from the gun he was cleaning. “Do you think you could hold the line until the Brotherhood arrives?”

            “Barring an all-out offensive, I believe so,” the man said with a sigh. “We’ve improved the defences and Haylen says she can make a couple turrets from the scrap Initiate Sparrow brought in.”

            “Rhys, Haylen?” Danse asked of the other two Brotherhood members.

            The Knight pursed his lips and then nodded reluctantly. “I don’t like it, but if what Cait’s told me is true, it’s going to take a Paladin in full armour to storm the place.”

            “We can,” Haylen said confidently. “The Elders said that the force would arrive within the week.”

            Danse sighed in relief. He didn’t like the idea of Sparrow entering Fort Hagen to confront a ruthless Institute agent with a synth, a chem-addled brawler and a reporter at her back. “Good. Initiate Sparrow, tell them everything you know in case we fail at Fort Hagen.”

            The Vault Dweller delivered a short report on Kellogg and his ties to the Institute. Haylen, who’d taken apart several Institute weapons, was already nodding and recording the information.

            When she was done, Brandis stood up. “You need to go,” he told Danse. “I’m not up to it and while I’m sure the lovely Cait is a devil in combat, they need a Paladin to breach the defences.”

            Sparrow pegged the brawler with a firm look. “This is now a military operation,” she told Cait grimly. “Paladin Danse will be commanding me and anyone else who comes along. If you choose to join us that will include you.”

            “You own my contract now,” Cait told the smaller woman. “I go where you tell me to.”

            “No, you go where you choose,” Sparrow answered softly. “I should give warning that Danse doesn’t allow anything stronger than Rad-X or Stimpaks on a mission.”

            “Fuck that,” Cait said bluntly. “Can I stay here then?”

            Danse shook his head. It was obvious that Sparrow was trying to help the woman, even if he thought the brawler was a lost cause. “You’re not of the Brotherhood.”

            Cait scowled. “Tight-arsed bastard,” she declared.

            “This is a military compound, not a ten-cap inn,” Danse retorted. “Somehow I suspect you and military discipline would get along poorly.”

            “You’re not fucking wrong,” Cait countered before turning to Sparrow. “So what now? You gonna throw me out now you’ve got your boyfriend to help out?”

            “He’s my commanding officer, not my boyfriend,” Sparrow told the woman tightly. “And I’m not throwing you out, Cait. There’s a bed for you at Hangman’s Alley if you want it.”

            “Want me digging up tatos then?” Cait asked scornfully.

            “Actually, I was thinking that your reputation as a cage fighter would make the raiders steer clear of the place,” Sparrow observed calmly.

            “Ah, security,” Cait said thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you just say so in the beginning?”

            “Because I wasn’t sure if Paladin Danse could join me, which meant I would have needed someone capable of ripping a synth apart with her bare hands,” Sparrow pointed out.

            “Understood.” Cait grabbed a handful of shotgun shells and rested her sawn-off shotgun on her shoulder as she turned for the door. “Good luck with those synth bastards. Watch your back with Nick ‘cause he’s one of them.”

            “Thanks. Safe journey back to the Alley.” When the door closed behind, Sparrow sighed in relief.

            “I see you’ve acquired some… interesting… allies,” Brandis noted dryly.

            “If I hadn’t run into the Brotherhood, I would have been her in a few weeks,” Sparrow said bluntly.

            “Perhaps, Initiate, perhaps not,” Danse said. “Now get some sleep. We leave for Fort Hagen tomorrow.”

            She nodded, obviously relieved to hand over command to someone else, and went to her assigned sleeping bag. Danse would need to remind her to wash up before they left tomorrow but with the red in her eyes, it was obvious she was exhausted.

            He sighed and turned towards his power armour. Time to make sure it was battle-ready.

…

_“When I die, I hope I go to hell so I can kill you all over again, you bastard.”_

            Sparrow ripped the last of the circuitry from Kellogg’s dead body after she’d smashed his head in. The man had been a certified cyborg, more machine than man, and proud of his actions in giving Shaun to the Institute. Now he was a rotting carcass amidst the strewn remnants of the thirty synths she, Danse and Nick had dispatched on their way down here… and she was no closer to finding Shaun.

            “Finished, soldier?” Danse asked gruffly as Nick hacked the terminal to find any more information on the Institute. The two men had developed a curt rapport with each other though she doubted they’d be friends.

            Sparrow wiped her tears away with a bloody hand. “I’m sorry, Paladin,” she told him. During the whole fight he’d been the backbone of their force, laying waste to synths with his mini-gun and taking fire so that she and Nick could deal with the rest of their enemies.

            “We have more questions than answers, but I know someone who might be able to help us,” Nick announced as the doors opened. “Do you know where Goodneighbour is?”

            “If you think ghouls will be of any use,” Danse began, only to be silenced by Nick’s withering yellow gaze.

            “Yes, it’s full of sentient ghouls. But Dr Amari is human and very competent,” Nick replied acerbically, standing up from the terminal.

            As per protocol, Sparrow looted every bit of portable technology from the place. Since she’d joined up, the Cambridge station had become stocked full of scavenged food, resources and tech. She didn’t know the size of the force coming to the Commonwealth but suspected that every little bit would be needed – hence her supporting the settlers at Hangman’s Alley. Logistics, as much as tactics, won wars.

            Danse led them to the elevator, which groaned under the weight of his power armour but heroically carried them to the roof. “How are you coping?” he asked softly as Nick went to open the security door.

            “I don’t know,” Sparrow said honestly. “I thought this was an end, but it’s just the beginning…”

            “We have proof that the Institute is actively working in the Commonwealth,” the Paladin noted.

            “And they have my son for some reason,” Sparrow noted bitterly.

            “Yes.” Danse sighed and rested a hand on her shoulder. “If we can’t save Shaun, the Brotherhood will avenge him and your husband too.”

            “Thank you,” she whispered. “I guess it’s back to Cambridge?”

            “For me, yes. We need whatever can be extracted from Kellogg’s circuitry and that means you go to this… Goodneighbour.” Danse scowled as he mentioned the township’s name. “Be careful there, Initiate. It’s not just full of ghouls, it’s also full of scum that even Diamond City wouldn’t have.”

            “I’ll go with Nick,” she sighed.

            “I suppose he’s a little more trustworthy than a ghoul,” Danse said dourly.

            “You’re _too_ kind,” the synth private eye observed sarcastically over his shoulder. The door opened to reveal a night sky studded with stars. “Finally, some fresh air.”

            Then the sound of vertibirds filled the air as a massive airship, escorted by dozens of the military aircraft, sailed majestically into view.

            Sparrow pressed her hand to her mouth in shock as Nick quoted something that sounded like poetry and Danse actually grinned.

            “People of the Commonwealth. Do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel.”

            The announcement rolled across the Commonwealth like the portent of a storm, the airship’s engines rumbling thunderously as it headed in the direction of the airport, the only place likely big enough for it to dock.

            In silence they watched it pass, Sparrow unable to find the words to express her amazement that a military force of that size still existed. Had the Brotherhood brought all their people to the Commonwealth to fight the Institute or was this but a portion, albeit a sizeable one?

            When she looked at Danse, the strain of the past few weeks had melted away to be replaced by hope in his brown eyes.

            “If the Prydwen is here, then it means Elder Maxson himself has come,” the Paladin said with a tight grin. “We’d better head to the Cambridge station because he’ll be wanting a personal report from me as leader of the recon team.”

            “What about the circuitry we extracted from Kellogg?” Nick asked.

            “Initiate, I’m sorry to ask you to wait, but I will need you to join me on the Prydwen,” Danse said, addressing Sparrow directly. “The Elder will require a full report before we consult this Dr Amari and you’re the one who discovered the evidence of Institute involvement.”

            She wanted to tell him to piss off for once but he was right. If the Brotherhood was to war with the Institute, they needed all the information they could get. Her mother had been in military intelligence. She understood how it worked.

            “Nick, I’ll meet you in Diamond City as soon as I can,” she promised, turning to the detective. She liked him, remembering her father’s friend Nick, and hoped that she could convince the Brotherhood he was on the side of the angels.

            “I’ll see you soon,” Nick said, tipping his hat politely before heading for the ramp that would lead downwards.

            Danse looked to the Prydwen as it flew over the ruins of Boston. “It will be good to see Maxson again. I’ve known him for four years – since he became Elder – and he is the true force behind the Brotherhood.”

            “He’s a friend of yours?” Sparrow asked, still awed by the airship.

            “If one can call a living legend a friend, then yes,” Danse answered as he walked to the edge of the building, the ramp not being strong enough to hold his power armour, and simply dropping to the ground with a massive thud. Sparrow, not burdened with a quarter-ton of steel, took the ramp and soon joined him.

            “Here’s to hoping I don’t disappoint you when I meet him,” she said as they started the long walk to Cambridge. For the first time since she emerged from the Vault, she had hope, and it was something she prayed never to lose again.


End file.
